


Sibling Rivalry

by blackswans22



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Bulla the teenage drama queen, Bulma's got her hands full, Comedy, Family Bonding, Trunks the charmer, all in good fun, bros and brats, privileged life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackswans22/pseuds/blackswans22
Summary: Manicures, fast cars, fancy dinners. A day in the life of Bulla Briefs. Now, if only her Mom would stop getting in the way of her good time.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 18





	Sibling Rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this little one shot. Love those next gen kids. Trunks will always hold a special place in my heart.
> 
> I'd like to thank Rogue 1102 and Vagus for giving it a once over. If you haven't checked out their fics, they are wonderful writers with awesome stories to tell.
> 
> I'm also on Twitter @blackswans2222

The whirring noise cut dully through the background ambient sounds of recorded rainfall and light piano in the pink and gold establishment that perpetually smelled of acetone and lavender. The collective atmosphere in one of her favorite places drew a contented sigh from her cherry red lips.  _ I wonder if this is what Heaven feels like. _

Nothing could dampen the blissful mood that traveled all the way down to her perfectly red-polished toes. Not even her sparkly pink phone which vibrated for the tenth time in 20 minutes on the armrest of the heated massage chair she was luxuriating in. Giving the nail tech one final white-toothed grin, as if they both shared a private joke, she blew on her newly manicured nails, admiring the French tips one her delicate, thin fingers with a boastful sigh, then picked up the noisy device to scroll through the texts.

_ Bulla! You bring your adorable butt back here- _

_ You still have homew- _

_ Don't think I've forgotten about- _

_ You are still grounded, Bulla! Do you hear me!?- _

_ WHERE ARE YOU?! You're gonna give me grey hair!- _

As expected, the barrage was swift and threatening. She chewed on the tip of her tongue with a titter.

"Sorry, Mom." She said cooly as she erased the 8 voicemail messages sent in quick succession along with the texts, "My phone died."

She giggled as it rang again in her palm, her mother's blue-eyed grinning photo popping up on the screen and immediately tapped ignore. She then dug out a wad of cash from her tiny purse, tipping her technician generously.

Knowing that vindictive rage would come after escaping the house right under her mother's nose, Bulla had the foresight to prepare in advance: cash from the bottom of her underwear drawer and a GPS scrambling app she had designed herself, of which her genius mother would be proud of if it wasn't used for such devious behavior. She wasn't going to let anything ruin her good day.

"Thank you! See you in two weeks!" Bulla shouted joyously from the storefront door to the gracious waves from smiling nail techs behind her. She smoothed out her red skirt and top, adjusted her red headband, flicking away a few stray hairs from her face while pulling a compact from her purse hanging at her waist to dab more red gloss to her pouty lips. She made a kissy face to her reflection with love as a horn honking startled her from her vain admiration.

Breathing out a sigh of relief it wasn't her mother, she wouldn't put it past her to find a loophole in order to track the locations of missing daughters, Bulla placed a hand on her hip with a scoff and replaced the compact to her designer purse with a dramatic huff. "What are you doing here?" She asked incredulously.

The driver's side door to a shiny, silver luxury sedan closed effortlessly as her older lavender-headed sibling leaned up against the opulent vehicle in nonchalance. He chuckled at her perturbation as he removed his reflective shades to observe her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Hello, to you, too, stranger. I was done for the day so I was headed home. Saw Dad's car and I was beginning to get concerned as to why it was in front of a nail salon." Trunks teased through a smirk in a very familial fashion.

She watched his eyes drift lazily to the black sports car parked a few spaces over from his, accented in dark maroon and silver, gleaming in the sunlight with a powerful, menacing presence, not unlike its owner. The RNEGADE vanity plate right below an emblem of the royal crest was a dead give away. He turned his equally blue eyes back at her as his smirk widened.

Brushing off the feeling of being caught red-handed, Bulla flipped her hair with a shrug.

"Ha ha." She replied deadpanned, fishing out the keys to daddy's demon car, fully determined to ignore her irritating brother. She got mere steps away before his business suit-clad frame weaseled its way in front of her.

He tsked playfully to her pouting face. "What are you up to today?" He cut his eyes with mock suspicion.

"Getting my nails done." She responded frankly, flashing the ends of her fingers in his face and attempting to push past him.

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously. You're so predictable. Is Mom inside?" He asked, craning his head over her shoulder.

"Mom is at home." She replied flatly.

A slow realization dawned across his stupid charming face. "Ahhh. You snuck out. You know you can't win against Mom, right? How'd you keep her from tracking you?"

"If you must know, I made an app." She arrogantly replied matter-of-factly.

"Clever. What the fuck are you doing with your life? Does Dad know you're using his car?" Trunks inquired slyly, jutting his chin while attempting to swipe the keys from her hand.

She held them aloft above her head. "Daddy is out training with Beerus. You would know that if you weren't so busy ruling the world through the company." She accused, raising a blue brow.

"Someone's gotta do it. I don't see little Bulla lifting a finger to help."

"I have one finger for you." She pursed her lips as she raised her manicured middle to him in disdain.

He laughed with a shake of his head. "Such a lady. So where are you off to now?"

"None of your business." She replied curtly.

He briefly wrinkled his forehead with intrigue before feigning disinterest just as fast. "I bet it's nothing. I'm thinkin' it's just you and a bunch of your vapid little friends hanging out, playing fashion show, and talking about how to prevent split ends."

"You're stupid." She sneered.

"You're stupid." He spat back.

She knew she'd been baited but he asked for it with his dumb Cheshire grin. "Not that it means anything for you, but I have a secret invitation." Bulla retorted, haughtily squaring her shoulders. "It's exclusive and you can't come."

"Oh, yeah? What kind of party was little Bulla invited to? Is it someone's birthday? Don't fill up on cake." He pinched her sides to prove his baseless point.

"Funny you say that because I am going to eat. I'm attending a secret dinner with Hiroshi Tanaka as head chef. You know, the chef where you have to get an exclusive invitation for him to grace you with his presence."

The smirk that curled on her lip deviously felt utterly triumphant as she watched her cocky brother recoil in envious disbelief. "Bullshit."

"Oh," She taunted, knowing she struck the right nerve, "Is this something you would want to go to? Suprised your little sister got an invite and you didn't? Well, that's too bad. I'm on my way to a fabulous dinner, all by myself." She preened as she finally managed to push past his stunned body and unlocking the car with the remote.

"Oh, c'mon." He stuttered as he placed a desperate hand on the top of the pristine vehicle then retracted it immediately, clearly fearful of getting fingerprints on the shiny exterior. "I've been following that trail for months. I wasn't told there was an update about it. How the hell did you get invited?"

She stuck her tongue to the inside of her cheek. "I know people. Sucks for you. Poor Trunks." She pretended to sulk, prodded his cheek with a victorious finger. He turned with a defeated growl.

"Who made you so evil?" He groaned under his breath.

"Daddy."

"Figures." He replied while fixating on the ground, the wheels turning behind his furrowed brows.

Bulla found immense amusement at seeing her usually overconfident brother disheveled over some dinner event. He really seemed to want to go with the way he forced his hands through his hair in frustration.  _ Looks like I one-upped you at something. _

He turned back to her suddenly with a sly smile. "I'll race you for it?"

"What?" She queried incredulously. He was evidently ready to play dirty, exploiting their family's weakness for a challenge.

"Yea, whoever can get to it first, gets to go. It's just under your name, right?"

She chewed her bottom lip in consideration then waved a hand airily. "I don't think you can pull off my outfit. Besides, Daddy's car is way faster than yours." She reminded him.

"Doesn't matter. I know every sidestreet. I'll bet I'll get there 10 minutes before you do. Then a quick bribe will get me your seat." He winked assuredly, testing her, fighting with her will to never back down.

His bravado bit into the Saiyan pride that had been ground into her since birth. Trying to maintain composure, she weighed her options. On one hand, she could deny him the satisfaction in attending an event he couldn't buy his way into by not conceding to his challenge. On the other, she could rub it in his face when she won while also indulging in the best food in the city. There was a small chance she could lose.

The Saiyan side won out. There was no way she'd pass up an opportunity to throw twice the victory in his stupid smug face.

She thrust out her hand and he immediately gripped it with a heavy-handed shake. "You're on. And no flying. Strictly a street race. Just don't cry when I win." Bulla whipped out her phone and delivered the coveted address to her brother's phone and his face lit up restrained jubilance.

"I would hold off on bragging." He suggested as he pocketed the device into his jacket. "It will feel a lot less painful when I destroy you."

With a hand on the car door, she glared at Trunks then covertly glanced around him. More preoccupied with smirking down at her, he didn't notice a car backing up behind his own with slow geriatric caution.

Spying her opportune moment, she opened the driver's door to the black roadster with a little more force than necessary and plunged into the leather seat in a red blur.

"1, 2, 3. Go!" She yelled abruptly as Trunks got his bearings, being momentarily caught off guard. Bulla thrust in the key and turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life, and peeled out of the parking space right as Trunks did the same but was immediately caught up waiting for the other vehicle to leave.

She cackled as her foot pressed down on the accelerator, hearing 'cheater!' from behind as she sped down the semi-empty road to gain some distance between her and her pigheaded opponent.

She shouldn't really be driving this fast. The continuous blare of horns expressing their ire as she zoomed past them or in front of them wildly said so. Traffic ceased to be an issue as her sharp eyes and heightened senses, fueled by the sheer need to win, allowed Bulla the ability to recklessly weave in and out through lines of cars pacing themselves and for the most part following the rules of the road.

Once she got onto the highway, the black outline of her father's car blurred along the fast lane at break-neck speed with the accelerator smashed to the floor, narrowly avoiding several collisions as her hands gripped the wheel with halfling strength, not enough to damage as the vehicle was expertly designed by Capsule Corps finest to withstand full Saiyan Prince road rage.

"C'mon! It's right there!" Bulla's shining blue eyes widened in anticipation as the desired exit was only a short way up on the right. Cheering to herself at her timing, the rally was premature as flashing blue and red lights reflected warningly in the rearview mirror, a sudden panic alighted on her face in realizing she'd actually have to slow down and stop, effectively thwarting all plans of annihilating Trunks.

"No, no, no, no!" Her high slowly deflating while pulling to the side of the busy road in a dramatic huff. "Fuck!"

With her face in her hands, she considered how much time she'd waste with a cop shaming her for being a negligent driver.  _ Maybe he'll be cute?  _ She thought with a coy smile and flipped her hair as the expertly trained simpering actress took form on her features.

All thoughts of charming the pants off of some hapless officer died when she recognized the baldhead at eye level glaring with exasperation.

The effect of rolling down her window forced her to change tactics immediately. Instead, she beamed innocently.

"Krillin." She grinned with a tilt of her head.

He sighed with a shake of his own. "License and registration, Bulla."

"Hi, Krillin." She repeated sweetly as she dug the plastic ID from her purse and handed it over with the registration dutifully.

"Hi." He replied, impassive and unamused. He looked down and clicked his pen with irritation. Bulla took his momentary distraction to look at the clock and realized she had only had twenty minutes to get to the venue if she was even going to be able to get in.

She leaned on the side of the door as her adorable voice came forth. "How's 18? Marron?" She asked, hoping to gain some family-ties sympathy.

The way he looked back up clearly said he wasn't buying any of what she was selling. "They're both good. Don't try and get off the subject. Why were you speeding?"

_ Just speeding? No tailgating. Cutting people off. Failing to yield. Running red lights. " _ I don't know…" She replied, avoiding self-incrimination.

Another sigh as his pen scratched loudly on the pad in his hand. "Bulla, I'm gonna have to write you up. Does Vegeta know you're racking up tickets in his car?"

"No."  _ I get to those first. _

"You know you can't do this."

"I know… but  _ Uncle _ Krillin, how can you write me up?" She whined pitifully, coercing tears to brim.

"That's not gonna work. This is like the 3rd time and you've only been driving for a year."

She exaggerated a scoff. "I wasn't endangering anyone. I can tell. You know I can tell. I can prevent any accident. Daddy taught me to-"

"That's not the point. You should know better. The city is not your own personal raceway."

"But-"

"No." He said firmly. "This has to stop. You-" A crackled chirp followed by a summons from his shoulder radio sidetracked his admonishment.

He thrust out an authoritative finger in her direction. "Stay there." He warned. She tsked while putting her chin in the palm of her hand petulantly.

Their family friend turned to the side and walked off a short distance to receive the call. "This is Officer Krillin."

" _ I've got a Briefs kid here. The boy."  _ The voice on the radio chimed loud enough for her sensitive hearing to pick up.

Bulla placed her mouth in her hands to suppress the building laugh.  _ Ha, he got pulled over, too. _

Brown eyes flashed her way with shocked vexation. "Seriously? This was a concerted effort? I'm a legitimate police officer. I could have you both arrested. Bulma is going to-"

"Don't tell my Mom!" Bulla blurted, her face blanching in horror. The tables completely turned at the mention of her mother's involvement.

"Krillin, I promise. I'll stop. Don't tell Mom." With everything she decided to do today, actual proof of her irresponsible driving habits could lead to any number of privileges taken, forced labor in the lab. No friends. No freedom. Or worse. She had Daddy wrapped around her finger but Mom held the purse strings to her every whim. No credit cards would definitely mean the end of the world.

Krillin narrowed his eyes with determination at seeing Bulla's sudden yield of control as she sat up straight, panic-stricken. "I'm going to write you up-"

"Okay." She nodded obediently.

"You're going to go to traffic school."

"I will."

"You will not speed anymore."

"I won't. I swear." She held a hand to her chest in abject compliance.

"You're not just saying that?" He inquired unconvinced.

"No. I swear. I'll be a model driver."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I don't really believe you but I have other things to do than to babysit the two of you. One more infraction and I'm telling Bulma. About all of this." He threatened. She smiled through a grateful exhale.

"Okay, Uncle Krillin." He scowled at the title. "Officer Krillin." she corrected hastily.

"Go home, Bulla. Stay out of trouble." He handed over the slip of paper littered with infractions and fines which she begrudgingly took before rolling up her window.

Watching the squad car pass, Bulla stuck out her tongue as her last bout of defiance. She picked up her phone and found a message waiting. Glancing at the clock on the dash, she winced realizing too much time had elapsed. It was over. She missed a once in a lifetime opportunity to rub elbows with the best chef in the country because of her brother's stupid bet.

She sniggered at the text ' _ you suck'  _ sent from the golden boy himself while turning the key and taking her now free time onto the highway.

She wrote out a quick response.  _ Wanna meet up for coffee, dumbass? _

_ Yea,  _ was his only response and she headed to their old coffee shop, the memories of hot chocolates and frothy milk mustaches a gentle reminder of her younger days palling around with her brother.

She pulled into the lot to the coffeeshop and spied him already waiting at a table, wallowing into a steaming mug of foamed cappuccino when she sat down across from him with a pathetic sigh.

"I have to go to traffic school because of you." He mumbled while loosening his tie.

"I'll see you there." she commiserated. The overly sweet blended drink in front of her had little appeal as she sulked thinking about the decadent meal she was currently missing out on.

"How close did you get?" He glanced up through the steam.

"8 minutes. Then Krillin pulled me over." She chuckled while stirring the cream on top with her straw.

"I was about 6." He smirked, the little victories feeding his ego.

Groaning into her hands, her phone buzzed on the reflective table and she gasped suddenly in alarm, startling Trunks in the process as half the contents of his cup sloshed on the table. Her thumb busily scrolled through incoming pings from her social media pages with a cacophony of pics that were not her. The torrent of public photos blowing up with her tagged in all of them eliciting likes and comments from her so-called friends. She sputtered in fragmented, disbelieving sentences.

"What? What's wrong?" Trunks also stood as she rose from her seat.

"Someone got there before us!" She screeched.

"Who?" He stared quizzically.

She rolled her eyes as she held out the device as she picked a single gem illuminated on the small screen. She knew she should have been more careful. There was always a way for karma to bite her in the ass.

"Who do you think?" She sneered as she glared down at the device.

A chipper, beaming Bulma took up most of the photo, arm slung around the shoulder of the chef and her other hand rested a tiny plate of decadent meats, roasted vegetables surrounded in a delectable orange sauce. The scene around her mother was of other guests toasting through smiles seated at an elaborate round table, courses set out for tasting, the candlelight flickering off their glasses. She could practically feel the smugness coming off her mother's face and dreaded the thought of going home, not only to punishment for the prison break and the car, but the gloating that would follow her for weeks.

A final chirp roused her from self-pity as another text lit up her phone.

_ I make a pretty good 'Bulla', don't I? Next time, don't leave your email open when you're rushing to escape the house. I'll see you when you get home. Family meeting when your father gets back. _

Trunks whistled a commiserating exhale from across the table. "That's what happens when you mess with Mom. Believe me, I totally get where you're at right now. Wouldn't want to be you, but I get it."

Bulla dropped her head onto the surface of the table that wasn't coated in coffee and moaned out her frustrations for being bested by her own mother.

She hadn't even noticed Trunks had gotten up until a cherry danish on a sunflower plate scraped across the tabletop.

Lifting her head off the surface, she observed her sibling who smiled emphatically and held out a fork. She smiled back, thankfully knowing she always had one person in her corner, even if they bickered like cats and dogs.

She dipped into the glazed sugar with her French tips and looked at them sidelong before licking the confection off with a sigh. At least her nails looked nice.


End file.
